Interlude
by castmyashes
Summary: This is a little series of interludes between my Night Series, and various other ideas that I came up with.


**Title:** Drabbles

**Author:** KIHarwick

**Pairing:** Various pairings in various verses (King Arthur, Buffy, and Angel, wherever you want to put with it)

**Rating:** PG 13

**Length:** depends on which drabble it is…individual word count follows each drabbl

**Summary:** Whatever little idea takes my fancy. Italics is the theme of the drabble

**Feedback:** Please, the muse really craves it.

**Disclaimer: **I own none. All verses are their own. The woman in the fic is simply a shadow in the wind. King Arthur is borrowed from Antoine Fuqua and Jerry Bruckheimer, courtesy of Touchstone Pictures.

**Author's Note:** This little blurb came to me when I found this quote while reading a fan fic from _The League of Extraordinary Gentleman _verse. I loved it so much, that I wanted to use the quote. I can't remember where I found it anymore, because it was a while ago. The point is; the quote could work for so many different verses.

* * *

Against the wall, he stood, her small lithe body pressed tightly against his own. One hand, battle-roughened, caressed her waist, while the other cupped the back of her head, holding her so that he could pillage her mouth with his own. The stone of the wall bit into her back as he forced her to rest against it. Neither was bothered with the wind that blew about them as they tasted each other in illicit passion. A single kiss; stolen in an instant of time. A succinct flicker of passion. _A silence held a kiss forever stolen and asked no more. (101 words)_

* * *

The whisper of lips met together in reciprocal acquiescence. Butterfly kisses after nighttime prayers. All sweet and full of tender emotion. Nothing like the animalistic need conveyed in the restless touches of hands. The succinct flicker of passion flares into yearning, torrid and boiling below the surface. It sears the flesh of two people's illicit affair. Knight and Queen, friend and friend's wife. Passion burns them, it rules them. And they obey. What other choice did they have? Yet they didn't see him, standing in the alleyway, all alone, or the smoldering flicker of jealousy (and hurt) in his green eyes. _(101 words)_

_O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; _

_It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock _

_The meat it feeds on;_

_Othello Act 3, scene 3_

* * *

She yearned for his touch. Those long tapered fingers; the rough calloused hands touching places on her body unfamiliar to anyone save himself. Even now, when she sat beside her king, with him so near, yet so far away, she felt his dark eyes on her. They beseeched to her, begging her to come to him. Her eyes entreated unto him; stay silent a while longer. She left the room, a flurry of skirts. The king looked after her, then to his knight, his right hand. The knight nodded and left the room, following the woman he loved. She looked at him and _it's in the meltdown that realization occurs. (110 words)_

* * *

She danced, gyrating to the cadence of the drums as they played vociferously all around the room. Every man stared, as if spellbound by her performance. Only one man scowled. She slowly came to realize that he was scowling, and her actions became increasingly sensual, as if she were only performing for him; enticing him with the sway of her young body.

He leaves for battle, of course, for that is his obligation. And when he returns, hoping that she is there, he finds nothing. He was haunted by what once was; what might have been. _We cling to what is gone. (102 words)_

* * *

Mist covered the vastness surrounding her. She walked alone, a wraithlike figure of a once strong woman broken by grief. Her dark hair clung to her shoulders. Finally, she stopped and turned to a figure of a haggard old man standing in the mist.

_They fought here,_ the woman asked, knowing the answer.

_They did,_ the old man told her with a wistful smile and a faraway look in his eyes.

_They were heroes,_ she whispered to the mist. _They died valiantly._

_It is not how they died that made them heroes,_ the old man explained. _It's how they lived. (100 words)_

_

* * *

_

Will there be more to this little series? Probably. I wrote these while fishing for an idea for another fan fic.


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